


Webbing

by DET_WENT_FERAL



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29400849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DET_WENT_FERAL/pseuds/DET_WENT_FERAL
Summary: "Wilbur, for the last time," George slammed his palms onto the dinner table, "I'm not turning into Spider-Man!"He tried pulling off his hands, he really did, he just couldn't. He sat down quietly, shaking."Okay, maybe I am turning into Spider-Man."
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 15





	Webbing

Brighton, the awful place George called home. He also called it Devil Town, but he's got a genuine reason for that. 

The year was Twenty Sixteen, he had just moved in with his good pal, Wilbur. Coincidentally, that year was also the year his family fell apart. His mother admitted to an affair, his father was starting a new job across the country, and his sister had just gotten into an extremely toxic relationship. Everyone tried to help each other out but, it always turned into conflict. George needed to get away from them, and Wilbur wanted a roommate. 

While doing house chores, Wilbur always played music. It would always change, one day, it would be Indie, the other it would be Punk Rock. One day, he played songs from an artist called CaveTown, and George's first impression of him was Devil Town. 

"I swear he's been obsessed with it ever since he heard it," Wilbur said into his microphone, "trust me chat, he plays it non-stop. I memorized the whole three versions in a span of a week because of him." 

Of course, Wilbur didn't explain the whole reason George moved in with him, he just told his viewers that he needed a roommate and George offered to take the role. 

As Wilbur sat down in the most inconvenient way possible, a donation popped up. It read, Where is George? Why is he not found? Will gave the message a slight chuckle before talking about his housemate's location. 

"He's actually out right now, visiting his father at work. He hasn't seen him in ages."

Another donation pops up, Why are you guys telling us about the move now? It literally happened five years ago.. 

He looked at it confused. "Because we didn't have a big fandom at the time.” He spoke, semi-sarcastically. 

As he kept on chatting, George walked into the music room, sweating. He had looked like he had just ran a marathon, or tried to bake himself. He looked panicked, disturbed. Something must've happened during his visit. 

Wilbur turned his chair towards the shorter guy. "You good?" 

George nodded, then immediately fell to the floor, unconscious. 

George woke up on his couch, neatly tucked into a large blanket, next to Wilbur. He was humming a familiar tune. It was the song that shall not be named, by it must be refrained to pronounce it's words close to Wilbur unless you want to run for hours, and hours with no end. Wilbur started to loathe Devil Town, but he loved his friend, and would give him all his desires if he could. He'd do anything for him, especially since he's helped him so much these last five years. 

George couldn't help but hum along, blowing the fact that he was no longer asleep. Wilbur looked at him from the corner of his eye, and continued humming. As the lyrics came to an end, George sat up, and stretched his arms out. As they were up, his right sleeve slowly rolled down his wrist, revealing a goose egg on the back of it, facing directly at Wilbur.

"What the fuck is that?" Wilbur was in slight panic, and definitely confused when he soon came to realize George wasn’t sure either. 

He shrugged, "It's a harmless spider bite, I think." 

George pulled his wrist closer to himself, looking at the inflation that formed around the bite. It was red, with little spider vains trailing across it. It almost looked bruised, but that wasn't the case. 

"Harmless? That looks far from harmless," Wilbur quoted. "That thing probably caused what happened on stream! Maybe something more—Wait, how did you even get it?" 

The two men looked at each other in silence, one looking like a mother who's about to lecture her child, and the other, the child. 

"I—Uh—Well," George stuttered. 

"Well?"

"You know that company that just moved here? Oscorp?"

Wilbur nodded hesitantly. 

"My father works there, he told me he'd show me around. We toured the whole building, it took about an hour or so, and then we got to the spider exhibit. They said that they genetically modified six spiders, yet there were only five. When I asked my father about it, he said that 'one of them must be getting worked on.'

"As we were walking out I saw it on my hand," George said as he reimagined the scene, at the reception. Everything was white. Everything had sharp, clean edges. Not a single curve in sight. The people who worked there had long, white lab coats that would drape down to their feet. They all had white goggles, they resembled clout goggles. He reimagined his wrist, the spider crawling on it. 

"It looked harmless, it was just a red and blue spider. Until it bit."

George looked back at Wilbur, who had his mouth wide open in disbelief. 

"You know what this means? Right, George?" Wilbur asked, with extreme excitement. 

George shook his head. 

"You're going to be a Spider-Man!" 

George started laughing. Him? Spider-Man?  
"Wilbur, life isn't a comic book," He said hysterically, "I'm not turning into some Spider mutant." 

They spent the day arguing. Arguing about how George would either turn into a super-human, or would just die. George was personally hoping for both. 

"Wilbur, for the last time," George slammed his palms onto the dinner table, "I'm not turning into Spider-Man!" 

He tried pulling off his hands, he really did, he just couldn't. He sat down quietly, shaking. 

"Okay, maybe I am turning into Spider-Man." 

Wilbur scoffed, "Okay, don’t steal my joke. Take your hands off." 

"I can't."

"What do you mean, 'you can't'?" Wilbur spoke, almost shouting.

"I-I can't."

Wilbur stood up, and walked around the table to help his friend. He pulled on his arms, but couldn't take his palms off of the table. George tried lifting both his hands, but just lifted the table.

"George, calm down." 

"What do you mean 'Calm down'?" George practically shouted. 

George raised his hands. Without the table. Finally, he was liberated. 

"Holy shit," Wilbur spoke, "We wasted like, an hour on that."

"Yeah," George huffed, "And we were tired enough to think that I was Spider-Man." 

" ‘Tired enough to think that’? Please, we have genuine proof that you are a ‘spider mutant’." 

"Alright grandma," George pat Wilbur’s back, “Time for bed.”

Both men walked to their rooms. George sat down on his bed, opening his phone. He went to Twitter. He always went to Twitter when he had something to say. He slowly typed on his keyboard, I hate Devil Town, and left it at that. 

In George's train of thought, Brighton was the cause of this. The place had turned extremely boring because of Covid, and it would've probably made him go insane if it weren't for Wilbur. He probably is already insane, though. He's been sticking to things for the last hour. He couldn't have actually stuck there, right? Out of the corner of his eye, George saw his phone dim. 

He looked at the text he wrote. It wasn't even a text, nor a paragraph, just a sentence. He knows that if he tweets it out, it would stay with him forever. He's willing to take the risk. As he pressed the tweet button, his thumb stuck onto his phone screen. 

"Devil Town," He cursed, "I blame this on you and your stupid Oscorp." 

George did a throwing motion, thinking that his phone would've stayed stuck on his left hand. His phone hit the wall, leaving a dent. Surprisingly, it wasn't broken. George was still pissed, he now had a hole in his wall. He flopped backwards onto his bed, hoping that his sticky nightmare would end by dawn.


End file.
